My Father's Daughter
by TexanRose
Summary: The daughter of Li Shang and Fa Mulan reflects on her life and her belief that she is more her father's daughter than her mother's.


**I do not own Mulan. If I did there would be a live-action movie out already.**

 **This is about Mulan's daughter and her struggle between tradition and her heart.**

 **Please Review!**

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In peasant homes, female infants are often killed or left to die. They are viewed as burdens and leeches, traitors who will one day leave their parents' home to join their husband's family. A daughter cannot plow in the fields or fight in war or carry their family name. A daughter is not as strong as a son, nor is she as capable. This is what the peasants believe. And so, they go one with their lives as the cries of infant daughters, nieces, and cousins are silenced and smothered into nothingness.

In the homes of the wealthy, a family might have one daughter. Perhaps the very wealthy will have two girl-children. In a family like this, a daughter can be married to another wealthy man or a wealthy man's son, and family wealth is combined and calculated. But in these homes, the women remain silent as they follow the Three Obediences—obeying her father in childhood, her husband in womanhood, and her son in widowhood. Voiceless, she is expected to give birth to more children who will cause the family fortune to grow. When her time on earth ends, the name given to her in the temple of the ancestors is that of her husband's.

In homes of the nobles, those whose ranks are high enough to mingle or intermarry with the imperial family, daughters are as delicate as porcelain. They are born, and then they are molded as they are taught the Seven Arts—music, painting, poetry, embroidery, dancing, flower-arranging, and tea-making. She is taught how to bow and how to pray. And one day, she will marry a man who will increase her family's power and status. And like the porcelain that is put in fire so that is may shine, a noble daughter must fight for her ability to influence. Such a daughter can whisper in her father's ear and kiss her husband's cheek and flatter her grandfather so that her sons can gain positions of importance and her daughters may obtain husbands of prominence. Such a daughter fights all of her life until she is a grand madam of a great family, a woman who bows only to the Emperor and whose son bows to her. When she breathes her last, the gleaming light fading from her eyes, the monks from the seven shrines will chant her name as her soul is released from her body.

I was born a firstborn daughter to woman who was neither a peasant nor wealthy and a man who neither noble nor imperially royal. Yet, they fought battles and won wars, influencing the direction of the imperial court and forming friendships with those who had the ability to change the course of the Empire. My mother formed a respectable friendship with the Emperor and whispered in his ear until the day he made her one of the three imperial consuls, a rank comparable to that of a prince, so that Fa Mulan could whisper more loudly and more frequently. My father commanded the _Taiyin_ Army of 500,000 soldiers who would bleed and die for him without complaint, who would expand borders, stop insurrections, and even start a rebellion if that was what my father wanted. During his lifetime, it was said that the Emperor governed the world but Li Shang controlled the people.

As their firstborn child, I was born into world of privilege and of wealth. My mother believed that I was as capable as a firstborn son, so I was taught the Five Virtues—Riding, Archery, swordsmanship, marksmanship, and Kung Fu—along with the Seven Arts. But I preferred to spend my time embroidering words of war than fighting battles. On my fifteenth birthday, my more masculine lessons ended and my education became one of a noble lady. My hair grew longer, my dresses more elaborate, and my accessories more expensive. My mother no longer taught me how to use her sword but instead she showed me how to weave her golden ornaments into my hair.

I think perhaps she was disappointed that I did not want to be more like her, that I did not choose her way of life. But a woman like my mother is needed once only every dynasty not in every generation. I had no battles to fight, no enemies to kill. I lived in peace in a land filled with prosperity. I respected the tenants of my society, the expectations of my religion, and the nuances of the imperial court. I had no higher cause to sacrifice for. A woman like my mother was tolerated because of her marriage and the emperor's favor. Her daughter was expected to be virtuous and full of propriety. I wanted to be liked.

I am not ashamed to say that I like to please people, to set their minds at ease, to let them bask in the familiarity of tradition and filial piety. It is perhaps for this reason that I was sent to the home of Princess Su during my sixteenth winter, so that she might teach me what my mother could not. Perhaps I was sent into her home because I was more of my father's daughter instead of my mother's.

My mother defies tradition frequently and thoughtlessly. In fact, she is the only woman in the history of the dynasty to hold an official political position in the Imperial Court. Perhaps she will be the only one to do so until the dynasty ends. Perhaps it is because she is great that she is allowed to do so. Greatness allows for exceptions. Exceptions like the marriage between a farmer's daughter and a general's son. Marrying Fa Mulan is the one exception that Li Shang made in his rigorous belief in tradition.

Tradition was always at the center of our household even if love was the thread that kept us bound. Deference to the ancestors and ancestral customs was always adhered to. I think my father must have sighed in relief when I showed that I was more inclined to the needle than to the sword. I was his child, his daughter, blood of his blood. I was born into his household and his traditions. His rigidity allowed him to bend only slightly before he would break. But I also think it is because he cringed every time he saw a new scar on my mother's body and her bandages of blood. If his daughter were to come home injured, I think that the Great General Li would weep from heartbreak.

In the home of Princess Su, where I lived until Spring came twice, I learned courtly manners, how to bow respectfully, how to serve tea properly, how to eat politely so that my sleeve covered the lower half of my face. She taught me how to play the zither with such precision that a person would weep or laugh depending upon the music I chose. She showed me which colors improved my complexion (blue) and which colors made me look sallow (orange). She instructed me on how to walk gracefully as if I carried two bowls upon my shoulders and which incense was most appropriate for my in-law's family mausoleum. She trained me to be a wife which is the path I had chosen to take when I put away my sword and picked up my needle.

The last month I stayed in the Princess' manor, her nephews and cousins and sons came to visit. I played the zither prettily for them, poured their tea properly, ate politely in front of them, and greeted them in an appropriate bow. Although a few returned, some never did.

When the day came for me to pack my things, I helped my maid organize my things into trunks, astounded by the gowns and jewels I had accumulated in less than two years.

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I would most certainly come home with a wardrobe comparable to a princess's. My last night, the Emperor's grandson, Wang Jian, attended dinner at his aunt's house. He was kind to Princess Su and praised the exploits of her sons. As dinner ended and my zither was brought into the main hall, he kindly asked me if I would dance. Because one never said no to a prince, I agreed and took my position at the center of the hall when, to my surprise, Wang Jian called for the zither to be brought to him so that he could play the tune.

As I settled into life in my father's house, Wang Jian visited frequently under some excuse to speak to my mother or my father. His presence soon became commonplace. My mother was wary of his presence while my father found great honor in it. Wang Jian was not the son of a second-tier prince and his concubine but rather a son of the crown prince and his legal wife. His rank was among the highest in the imperial court. I knew then what I later confirmed, that his presence was because of me. What I hadn't known is that his brothers and cousins had taken him favorable reports of me while visiting his aunt's house. And I could only guess, even decades later, that the Emperor favored the match between his favorite grandson and his favorite subject.

When the subject of her daughter's marriage was raised, Fa Mulan spoke loudly against an arranged match. My father, however, agreed to it, and so did I. And eventually my mother silenced her protests even as she balked against the restraints of tradition. I was my father's daughter, the restraints of tradition were comfortable boundaries, and so in the traditional manner, I left my father's manor and entered my husband's.

It was grander than my parents' home, and I found few friends in it. My mother-in-law and father-in-law had died when my husband was a child. His oldest brother had already been widowed and preferred his appeasing concubine to a demanding wife. His younger brothers had not yet wed. Even so, I found happiness in my new home. I lit the incense on the alter to my parents every morning. I planned meals and did household chores. I found time for my embroidery and my music. In the evenings, my husband told me stories of what had happened in court. It was a comfortable life, a traditional life, the life my father had wanted for me.

In my second year of marriage, the emperor, great and stooped with age, died in his bed. My husband wept at the loss of his grandfather, and the country mourned at the loss of their leader. But there was also celebration in the fact that Wang Shu, my husband's brother was the new Emperor. And thus, I became the Imperial Sister-in-Law. It was said that my brother-in-law's coronation, held even though it required him to walk across the Grand Courtyard filled with snow, led to his illness. A cough killed him within three months of taking the imperial throne. He died childless.

My husband became the new Emperor, and I his Empress. My mother twisted her mouth in displeasure as she watched the Emperor's harem grow and consorts, madams, and concubines call my husband their husband also. I did not allow myself to dwell in unpleasantness about the situation. Had I remained a princess' wife, it was unlikely that Wang Jian would have taken a concubine. We would be content in a simpler life. But an Emperor does not have the luxury of simplicity. These women were from powerful families, they were influential daughters and treaty brides. In them, I found several friends.

Even though my husband had other women to claim his attention, I like to believe that I remained in his heart. I was the first to give him a child, a son. And this son would one day rule the world like his father. My father gave my son his first sword and my mother his first bow and arrow while my husband gifted him with a horse on his second birthday. And I was pleased. My son was one who shared blood with the greatest women in China, the commander of the Taiyin Army, and the ruler of the World. Even if I lived in the shadows, my son would shine brightly.

I had heard rumblings in the palace for months about war-hungry ministers who wanted my peace-loving husband dead. But I had ignored them as false rumors as I prepared my son for bed at night. But one night, I was woken by a muffled yell as my maid's neck was broken by an intruder. I grabbed my son as the attacker came for us. When he tried to pry my son from my arms, I stabbed him with the dagger I kept on my nightstand. And then I ran to the secret rooms below the council chamber where I knew my mother would find both me and my son.

She came for me in the morning dawn and led me out into the Grand Courtyard where bloody bodies were scattered. She signaled to my father across the courtyard who came and embraced me with relief. And then I stifled a scream as they both bowed to my son. My husband was dead.

And so my son became Emperor at four-years-old, and I became Empress Dowager. I had once thought that my mother was the only woman in the imperial court with a political position. The mother of a child-emperor can also wield massive power. I instructed my mother to hunt down and bring the insurrections to trial, and my father's army weeded out any in the empire who whispered of rebellion. The Princess Su was brought from her manor to manage the Imperial household while I ruled for my son until he could rule for himself.

I missed my husband dearly as did his concubines. Custom demanded that childless concubines were to be sent to the Buddhist Temple, and they were. But I kept a woman named Liu-Liu by side as my son's nursemaid for she was one of my few friends within the harem. I never sat in the Emperor's throne, but I wielded his seal even though to do so broke with tradition. And when my son became old enough to sit on his throne himself, I remained active in the affairs of politics.

I used to think that I was more my father's daughter than my mother's. I believed in his traditions and saw their value. I was a subservient daughter who wanted nothing more than run a home properly. But I was also my mother's daughter, someone who would defy tradition for he sake of her heart.

My final request was for a monument to be built in my parents' ancestral temple. When I passed into the next world, I was with them in the afterlife. It was said that the temple of Li Shang and Fa Mulan was revered by my son and his descendants as much as the ancestral temple of the Emperors.

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 **I hoped you liked it. The idea was for Mulan and Shang's daughter to go from having no struggles and embracing tradition to having a challenge and bending tradition. Sometimes the rules are not bent for a significant other but other important people in our lives. Again, please review.**


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